Chapter Seven: Protests and Goodbyes
Jean-Paul sat up with a jerk, heart thudding, head spinning.
And saw, through the darkness, what it was that had so unexpectedly roused him from his dead sleep. Pietro Maximoff, sliding through his window with the ease of a circus contortionist.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he laughed low and hoarse, relieved. He'd been having some sort of dream, it felt like, and it had left his stomach tight with... not fear, just… something unpleasant. And he'd thought the sound of his window sliding open, of Pietro's entry, had been something else. What, he couldn't remember. But it was something bad.
No. Just Pietro. He tried to calm his heart, to keep it from coming out of his chest. And had little luck.
Pietro turned and closed the window, then flashed to the bedside. His side of the bed. And threw himself onto it, stretching out wordlessly and staring up at the ceiling.
Jean-Paul studied his face. His eyes were well adjusted now, and the moon was heavy and bright outside his window, so he could see well enough. Pietro's face was flushed, from being outside in the cold, and his eyes looked far away. Serious. Jean-Paul looked to the clock and saw that it was 3AM. On a Sunday night.
His throat suddenly tightened, of its own accord. And a nameless dread began to settle over him like a blanket. "What's wrong?"
Pietro kicked off his shoes, still silent, and slid under the covers.
Jean-Paul could feel the cold clinging to him, even though they weren't touching. He could smell fall on him. Could see that vague sort of... sadness on his friend's face. He slid back down to his former position, to be at eye level with Pietro, and pulled the covers back up over his bare chest. Trying to ignore that strange fear, that vague incredulity he could feel creeping in.
Something was wrong. Nothing about this was a normal late night visit from Pietro.
And his heart wouldn't slow down.
Finally, the silver-haired boy took a deep breath, and flipped over onto his side, to face him. Pietro looked at him for a moment, bit at his own lip fetchingly. And then spoke, finally. "Sorry. I know this is weird. But... well, I need to tell you. You're the only one I trust. And I... don't want you to be angry, ok?"
Jean-Paul furrowed his brow, and flipped onto his side to match Pietro. Part of him was dying to know what it was that would bring his friend here so late, unannounced, and with such an out of character expression on his face.
But part of him didn't. Really didn't. Because he knew, somehow, that he wasn't going to like it. "Something happened?"
Pietro sighed, "Sorta. Those dreams... they were the same for me and Wanda."
He nodded as best he could, with his head in the pillow. "I'm glad you could talk about it."
"Yeah... I guess I am too. Glad she didn't kill me, anyhow. And glad she doesn't remember anything about Magneto. Nothing real, anyhow. I don't think she's going to, either."
"Don't you think you should tell her...?"
"And die? Nothanks. Anyhow, what I'm trying to say is... well, we know they have to do with our father, right? We just kinda... have a feeling. I mean, cause of the timing and all. And you said the Worthington guy's company has its fingers in all this stuff with Sinister... coincidence is one thing but that's just fucking–,"
"Uncanny," Jean-Paul finished for him, almost in a whisper. "I agree."
"So... we were thinking that... all things considered... we both think... that we need to go home."
Jean-Paul simply watched him, schooling his expression so that it would give away nothing. Even though he was dying inside, already. It was all clear now. Perfectly clear.
Pietro had come to say goodbye.
"You think he's there?" He forced himself to ask, unable to hide the catch in his voice, and finding that he didn't really care to anyhow. Not at the moment.
Pietro suddenly looked very young, and very lost, as he answered, "I don't know, Jean-Paul. I don't even know if I want to know. I don't even want to...," deep breath, and he covered his face with his hand, like he couldn't stand for Jean-Paul to see the pained expression on his face any more. "I don't want to see him ever again. But something's fucking with us, and we gotta go. There's no other way, we both feel it, pulling us. Anyhow, she hasn't seen our family in... fuck almost ten years. They don't even know I'm alive. We should go."
No.
It was his first instinct, and it should've been Pietro's. It was a trap. It was so obviously a trap.
But he looked at his best friend, lying limply at his side, hand over his face, miserable. And knew damn well that there really was no other choice. If he had a lead, he had to follow it. Because if he didn't... things would only get worse and worse. And after a few more days of this kind of exhaustion, there was simply no way he would be able to function. It was making him sick. And it might do worse.
No, there was no other choice. Even if it was the most blatant, idiotic trap he'd ever seen in his life. He couldn't blame his friend. Not this time. Don't think. Don't feel. Just agree. "Yes, of course, if that's all there is for it, then you have to go. Do you...," Jean-Paul stopped himself, mid sentence, once he realized what he was about to ask. What he was about to offer. But finished in a moment anyhow. "Do you need help?"
The other speedster looked out from behind his hand now. "Help?"
"If... if you do find him, Pietro, that means you find Sinister. And you know better than anyone... that's no fucking joke. He's wanted you too long not to take advantage of the situation. But it... it must be some kind of trap and I don't want you...," he took a deep breath, trying to stop rambling. This was ridiculous, of course. He was acting like a child. Calm down, speak to him reasonably..., "I don't want you and Wanda wandering into it alone."
Pietro blinked a few times, as Jean-Paul considered his position once again. It was an insane idea. Going halfway across the world because of some dreams, because their father was missing. Yet, for some reason, it was instinctively... the right thing to do. Stupid, yes. But... somehow right.
Jean-Paul wished very much, at that moment, that he didn't understand. That he could yell, throw a fit, and get Pietro the hell out of his bed. Use Pietro's own "piss him off and he'll give up on you" tactic against him.
But he couldn't. Because he did, in fact, understand. His family, his business, his dreams.
"No man, I think we'd better go alone," the other boy finally breathed, sounding like each word took a great effort, low and rough in his throat. "This might be the stupidest thing I've ever done but... there's nothing anyone can do to help us. And if the shit hits the fan when we get there, I don't want you to... I mean, you could get caught up in it. And I feel like... we feel like it's just something we have to do, you know?"
The X-Man gave a quick nod. He knew, from experience, that once the Maximoffs had settled on a course, nothing would change their mind. And he also knew what it was like to have a sister. And when that bond demanded something of you... there was no other choice but to give in to it. He would do it too. Even if it meant giving everything else up. "But if you need anything, call."
Pietro gave a short, surprisingly bitter laugh at that. "Yeah, just call up the X-Men for help."
"No, not the X-Men," Jean-Paul said, slowly. "Me."
Pietro stopped laughing.
Jean-Paul stopped breathing.
And they just looked at each other for a moment, quiet, scared, and feeling much younger than they were. Jean-Paul couldn't be sure if Pietro felt it, of course. But judging from the look of him, the look of a small, frightened boy, he had to feel it too.
His stomach flipped, and Pietro's eyes fluttered shut, slowly. The silver-haired boy took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, then said, "Thanks." Quiet. So quiet, Jean-Paul mostly read it on his lips.
"When are you going?"
"Two hours. Wanda wants to be at the plane at five."
"How long?"
His eyes snapped open, and he bit down on his lip. And it made Jean-Paul want to reach out and smooth his hair, touch his face, suddenly. Almost irresistibly.
But he was frozen in place, by some sort of strange panic in the pit of his stomach. And all he could do was look at the other boy in his bed, and wish he could touch him. Make it better. Something. Anything. Just wanted to touch him.
"Don't know. We haven't worked the getting back part out yet."
Jean-Paul's throat closed in, and he nearly choked with it. The dread that had been spreading over him now seemed to be sinking in, black and cold. He pulled at the covers, fought another urge to reach for Pietro. Don't think. Don't feel. He needs you to smile. "Yeah, ok. It will be good for you. Both of you."
"I just... I wanted you to know. No one else can, not right now. She gave me this," Pietro suddenly shifted, and pulled something flat and white out of his back pocket, laid it on the bed between them, "For Sam. It doesn't say where we're going, though. Only you know that. We don't want anyone trying to stop us or track us down. And if the Brotherhood or someone finds out, they might try something stupid. Lance is such a fucking idiot, he might want to come after us or something. You're the only one I can trust...," he fell off, closed his eyes for a minute, and then opened them again slowly, like he was trying to compose the words in his head before he spoke them, trying to slow himself down and think before he spoke. "You can tell them, eventually. In case we're dead in a ditch, we figure someone ought to know. But... just give us a week, before you spill it. If you can." Still silent, throat still too tight to speak, Jean-Paul simply nodded.
"I just... I just wanted you to know."
"Yeah," Jean-Paul almost smiled this time, at the halting confession. "I would've been pissed."
"I know," Pietro almost smiled back.
It was quiet again, just for a little while. Jean-Paul was just trying to breathe. Trying not to think. Wanting to touch him. Wanting his heart to stop beating so fast. Wondering why Pietro looked so fucking sad, and if it was the same reason he felt it himself. Pietro never looked sad, usually. Not until lately. He was always happy. He was royalty, wherever he went. Pietro Maximoff never had to feel sad.
He wanted to kiss him. Kiss him until he couldn't breathe. But... not like that. Not fuck him, necessarily. Not right now. In fact, he was surprised to notice that he wasn't at all aroused, despite the presence of his beautiful best friend so close to him, in his bed.
No. Just wanted to kiss him.
And he was still frozen in place, too scared to move a muscle.
It was ridiculous. So many times, in this very bed, he'd been all over Pietro. Pietro on that side, Jean-Paul on this one. They always had the same side of the bed, every time they slept together. It was automatic now.
But this time... felt different.
"I should go," Pietro suddenly cut through the silence. "Wanda gave me fifteen minutes. If I'm not back, she'll go into fits. She already thinks I'm going to back out on her."
"That's because she doesn't know you," Jean-Paul tore his eyes off of him, and sat up, moving to find his jeans somewhere on the floor in the dark. "Maybe if you let her, you two can handle this together."
Pietro made no reply, but Jean-Paul could feel him, watching him get dressed. And Jean-Paul refused to meet his eyes, as he pulled up his zipper. Kept his back turned. Had to. "I'll let you out the front, so you don't trip the alarms."
Just a little longer. Just stay calm a little longer. He walked side by side with his friend down the hallway in the dark, and then down the stairs into the open foyer. In silence. Absolute, terrible silence. Hanging over their heads like a black cloud, like a death sentence. So thick, that quiet, he could've sworn they were breathing it instead of air.
He wanted to say something. He wanted to say a lot of things. But they didn't seem to have words, whatever they were, so he wasn't sure how to accomplish that. So he just stayed quiet, and tried not to look at Pietro too much, as they came to the door.
But once they were standing there, and Jean-Paul had punched in the security code, he couldn't resist catching the other boy's eyes again. "Thanks. For telling me, I mean. Hell, we might end up there too," he pointed out, sounding a little too hopeful for his tastes, but too tired to change his tone. "We're after Sinister now too. You could just... come with us."
Pietro shook his head. "Wouldn't work. You know it wouldn't. The agendas are all wrong."
He had a point. The X-Men would hardly be interested in investigating dream-animal-men. And they were taking their sweet fucking time coming to a decision about what to do, waiting around for Worthington to receive proper clearance... "I know," he said, quietly, with a sigh of defeat. "Just... good luck."
There was another moment of silence, where Jean-Paul struggled again with a simultaneous need to touch Pietro, and a strangling fear in the pit of his stomach that wouldn't let him.
Until Pietro finally snapped, "Fuck, this is retarded," And threw himself at his friend, bodily.
Jean-Paul caught him with both arms, slid them around his friend's waist with shaky release of breath, and buried his face in Pietro's silvery hair. Jesus, he was warm now. Warm and solid and god just so... Pietro. Jean-Paul squeezed his eyes shut, concentrated hard on the feeling of it, on Pietro's heartbeat against his own chest, his breath rising and falling, his warm skin and the pure, unadulterated reality of him. Here, with him. Now. "Jesus, Pietro, be careful," he breathed, holding him just a little closer as arms snaked around his neck tight. "Sinister is no fucking joke. Be careful, and take care of her."
"I owe the bastard one," Pietro made an attempt at a laugh, that only came out sounding sad and flat. And Jean-Paul knew damn well that Pietro didn't think of himself as a hero, and that's why it was funny. But he could only hope that somewhere in that self-absorbed, narcissistic, megalomaniacal skull of Pietro's, there was a little bit of a hero waiting for a chance to come out and play. Because the Maximoffs were going to need it. "Hell, you owe him one too. I'll throw in a punch for you, if you want."
Jean-Paul could feel every word he was speaking, feel the small warm puffs of his breath, as he spoke. So close to him. But never close enough. He gave a small laugh at Pietro's last statement, the best he could muster, and breathed in deeply. Leftover fall smell and green soap. Remember that smell.
"Anyhow, you guys will turn up. If this is really about Sinister. I don't know if it is or not but... gottagoyouknowwhatImean?"
"Of course, I understand," But as he spoke he felt Pietro's face turning, felt sudden, soft lips at his jawline, quiet and careful. His breath caught again, as if he'd never kissed this boy before in his life, as if it was different from the million other times this had happened. And he turned his own face, just so, felt his lips connect with Pietro's. Felt the soft pressure of a gentle kiss, barely there. Lips parted, just enough that he could feel his hot breath. Slightly wet. Fingers in his hair, but softly. On the back of his neck, ghost-like, moving fast.
Some kind of rush. But almost in a calming way, oddly. Tangled up in him and letting something instinctive pass between them. Something neither of them would ever have the words, or the guts, most likely, to say. Like it had meant something, this time.
Suddenly dizzy with it, Jean-Paul pulled back, just a little. He swallowed hard and whispered. "Right, then. See you before long, I'm sure."
Even though he wasn't sure. Wasn't sure at all.
And that, he suddenly realized, was why he was scared. Why his stomach was in a knot in his midsection and his heart was thudding in his ears. Why he hadn't been able to kiss him. Touch him. God, he felt so good.
But Pietro nodded and pulled further away, disentangling his arms from Jean-Paul's. "Yeah. Soon."
He turned away now, pulled the door open, and didn't even wince as the rush of freezing air spilled over his bare torso. Just watched Pietro step out, onto the stoop, and turn to look back at him quickly.
Fuck. I'm going to miss you, you dickhead. "Tell Wanda I'll miss her."
"She'll miss you too. Later, JP."
Yeah, you'd fucking better. But he didn't say any of it. He just held up his hand, in goodbye. Because he didn't want to say it.
And then, Quicksilver sped up, and took off across the lawn.
Jean-Paul watched, for a moment, then closed the door lightly, so as not to wake anyone else in the house. He flipped a few locks, punched in a few codes, reset everything just how it should be. Numbly at first.
But then, the warmth on his lips started to fade. And the feeling of his arms around Pietro started to slip away. And he started to feel the cold that he'd let in from the night outside.
And Jean-Paul went to bed feeling empty. And, for the first time in what seemed a long time, lonely. And scared.
* * *
Jean tried her best to be friendly. She really, truly did. With all her heart. Jeanne-Marie made that easy, of course, most of the time. The girl was sweet, plain and simple. And sitting next to her in class, Jean honestly remembered what it was like when JM had first come, holding her hand through her getting used to the X-Men, sleeping together and falling asleep laughing about Scott or Roberto. Back when things had seemed easy. Before Sinister. Before Warren. Before things just got so hopelessly...
Complicated.
It wasn't a bad day. They had lunch with Tara and her friends, and JM kept her flirting to a minimum. She seemed to be taking her task of bodyguard quite literally, glancing around with those shockingly blue eyes of hers every so often, as if checking for a threat. But she smiled a lot, talked when someone spoke to her, even made friends.
Jean had been starting too feel guilty for avoiding her for so long. So guilty, in fact, that she asked about Warren, on the way to her last class.
And that's when things got difficult.
"Oh Jean, he's so wonderful to talk with! He seems so sad, but he is so funny and sweet, when he isn't trying to isolate himself from the people around him."
And with that, Jean found that she was, once again, jealous.
It was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She'd been berating herself for it since it began, weeks ago. Impossible and ridiculous. And it wasn't Jeanne-Marie's fault that she was beautiful and artistic and had that accent that made guys melt...
"Oh... it sounds really nice, JM. I'm glad you're happy."
It must've sounded off. Because Jeanne-Marie looked over at her, and her pretty ivory brow furrowed. "Jean, are you angry with me? Did I ignore you when I broke up with 'Berto, or when I started liking Warren? If I did, I'm... very sorry."
Jean found that she couldn't look the other girl in the eye. Sometimes, Jeanne-Marie was so damn disarming and... naive. And always just when Jean wanted an excuse to be angry with her the most. "No, I'm not angry. You were fine. I just... I have a lot on my mind."
"...Scott has been... different lately. Even Jean-Paul says so."
Well, at least she thought it was about Scott, and not her.
And it was about Scott... kind of. But... not. "It's not that. I just got a little busy. I'll be around a lot more now, since we're in heavy training."
"I think he misses you," the younger girl offered, quietly.
Now, Jean looked over at her. Jeanne-Marie was looking at the ground, her long black hair falling around her face so that only part of it was visible, hiding her expression. "You... think?"
"I don't know, honestly," She looked up now, straight ahead at the crowd of backpack toting students that lined the sidewalk in front of them. "He doesn't talk to me, really. But I saw him talking to Rogue and Jean-Paul, and Jean-Paul said that you didn't even tell him goodbye after our meeting yesterday... Jean, are you not in love with him anymore?"
Normally, that would've been a perfectly alright question for Jeanne-Marie Beaubier to ask her. The girl was her friend, used to be one of her best friends. But lately... Jean had let almost every relationship slip away from her. Gotten wrapped up in other things, things that she wanted to do. College life, as much as possible. Warren, mostly. A short-term distraction. Something about the newness of it all, the normality of it... "Of course I am, JM. I just... it's hard coming to school. A lot more is expected of me and I don't really... I can't really balance it, yet."
"I see. I'm sorry if I shouldn't have asked..."
Jean winced, and thought suddenly of the IM Scott had sent her last night, just before she'd gone to bed.
Please call me. We need to talk.
She'd brushed her teeth and gone to bed, knowing she had to be up early enough to make it to the Danger Room session. In the morning, she'd only seen him in the Danger Room, and completely forgotten about the IM until just now...
She looked over at her friend and smiled. And didn't even have to force it too much. "No, it's ok. We're friends. I've just been distant lately, I know. I'm sorry, JM, ok?"
And as she said it, she decided that she meant it. She would go home tonight and call Scott, and tomorrow when Kitty came she would tell her she was sorry for being so ridiculous lately. And this Warren thing... it would go away...
"Please, no apologies," Jeanne-Marie smiled back at her, and it lit up her face. "Sometimes we all get wrapped up in things. I can understand. Like I've been wrapped up with Warren lately."
And Jean winced again, internally.
"Jean! Jean Grey!"
Jarred out of her conversation with JM, the redhead looked around for the owner of the voice she heard calling her name, and saw Jeanne-Marie doing the same, eyes narrowed suspiciously. She almost laughed at the sudden change of demeanor in the other girl, but her attention was caught by the rather large gathering she could now see forming on the quad. Complete with two separate mobs of college students, huge posterboard signs, and trucks full of sound and other equipment. "What the hell is going on here...?"
"I don't know, but I have a bad feeling about it...," Jeanne-Marie whispered, low in her chest so that it almost sounded like a growl.
"Jean!" The owner of the voice was now running toward them, and she recognized him as one of the boys from her Physical Anth class, the one with the Ramones shirt who had defended her. Today he was wearing a green toboggan with a Flogging Molly crest on the side and a plain white t-shirt that was a little too tight over his wide, if thin shoulders. That, and a pair of jeans that looked like they would fall right off his slim hips if he kept that running up.
Cute, in that slacker kind of way, really.
Oh but dammit, what was his name... Gary? No... Gavin? No, something like that though...
He reached the two girls, who were simply watching him come near, and Jean immediately opened her mouth to question him, "What's going on here?"
"It's the Students for Humanity. The people who are already in on it are staging a protest, to drum up support before the meeting tonight. So we're out here to protest them," he answered, face flushed with running, breathing a little hard.
He must've really wanted to get her attention, to tell her about this.
"That's the group you and Kitty saw the poster for?" Jeanne-Marie asked, narrowing her eyes at the mass of kids mulling around the quad now.
The dark-haired boy looked over at Jeanne-Marie with obvious surprise in his dark eyes, as if he hadn't even seen her standing there.
Now there was a first, Jean thought to herself, silently adding a check next to this boy on her list... if only she knew his name. "Um... this is my friend, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier." She offered, hoping he would do the work for her.
"Gaz Russell," he held out a hand to JM, and smiled, crookedly.
"Gaz," Jeanne-Marie smiled at the name, and accepted the handshake. "Interesting name."
"It's Gareth, really, but no one calls me that," he kept smiling, but returned his attention to Jean almost immediately.
Gareth. Right, that was it.
"Listen, I don't know if you're busy, but I thought you might be... interested in what was happening down here," He explained. "They're planning some pretty shitty stuff, I hear, and I think having a strong example like you around would really encourage a lot of the kids to stand up against this kind of bullshit 1940s segregationist crap, you know?"
Jean raised one eyebrow at him, and he scratched at his hat, almost nervously. But his eyes were steady.
"Are you a mutant?" She asked him, suddenly.
He shook his head, "No. Well, not that I know of."
"Why do you care then, Gaz?"
"Because I care about my country, and about my school. And I don't want to see us take a huge step backward after we've come so far already."
Honest– the sincerity was clear as a bell in his voice.
Jean looked over at her friend, who also seemed impressed, and then gave Gaz a small, approving smile.
"So... you'll come?"
"We'd better not, Jean. Logan said–," JM began, cautiously.
But something in the way Gaz was looking at her appealed to Jean, at the moment. Something in the way he'd stood up for her, even though she didn't need it. Something sincere and zealous about him that she found oddly magnetic. Not sexually, of course, but personally. And she believed him, when he said they could use her. "Logan didn't say we couldn't be near it, JM. He just wants us to be careful, that's why he wants us together. Let's just... go see what's up?"
Slowly, the dark-haired girl nodded her agreement. "Maybe it would be best to know what's happening on campus, anyhow. In the end."
Gaz Russell was smiling crookedly again, and scratching at his hat, causing some of his dark curls to stick straight out from his head underneath it. "Great. Come on, I'll introduce you. I mean, they know who you are, but, still..."
He put an arm around her shoulders, in that familiar way that most confident boys had– harmless and friendly, and started guiding her to the gathering, talking about what had been going on. Jeanne-Marie walked at her side, looking from side to side, but not too obviously. She looked relaxed and comfortable, Jean was pleased to note.
So she turned her attention to the excited boy beside her, who was talking about the gathering now and some of what he'd heard the Students for Humanity were planning. And wondered if maybe she hadn't found herself a new cause. One that, this time, was X-Men related.
* * *
He was nervous.
Wanda's behavior last night had been strange, yeah. She'd attacked him both in the movie theater, and then at her door, with kisses that had made his blood heat up instantly. But she was good at that– kissing. So it wasn't exactly a surprise. And it's not as if she'd never really done that before. She had a tendency to be a compulsive kisser. Yet another of her qualities that Sam adored.
So it wasn't that strange. What was odd was her resolve not to talk about anything at all. Not even the weather. She just kept looking at him, then kissing him. Insisting that nothing was wrong, that she just wanted to sit with him, to hold his hand. It wasn't very... Wanda. Normally she had a million things to bitch about, and he would make her laugh about them, and they would carry on watching their movie or eating their dinner. But not last night.
And now she wasn't in school.
He never usually saw her in the morning anyhow– Wanda was notorious for arriving late with the rest of the Brotherhood, barely in time for homeroom. But he usually saw her in Spanish and at lunch... and hadn't today. She hadn't called him, to say anything was wrong. And when he approached Toad about the subject, the other boy had just shot him a dirty look, and hopped away.
So now, he was worried.
It wouldn't be such a big deal, if she'd ditched school. He was surprised she didn't do it more often, she hated the place so much. But, after a few hours, he noticed that Pietro wasn't in school either. It was most noticeable at lunch, when the table that Jean-Paul and Pietro usually sat at, where Sam and Wanda sometimes sat, if they ate together, was empty. Jean-Paul was nowhere to be seen either, but Sam knew he was in school.
The Maximoffs, however, were missing.
He walked along under the overcast sky, heavy with cold moisture, on his way to the van after school, pondering the situation. The nightmares, their father disappearing, now them? It was just too freaky to be nothing. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe they'd just skipped school...
"Sam."
The blonde X-Kid stopped in his tracks, startled out of his thoughts by a French accent.
"Sam, I have something for you," Jean-Paul was at his side now, looking tired and a little bit sad.
Sam held out his hand to receive the envelope the older boy laid in it, and furrowed his brows at it. The outside of it was clean– no writing. But he still had a feeling. "From her?"
JP nodded, and let out a long breath. Not quite a sigh– Jean-Paul was always a little too controlled for that kind of thing, but something sad, anyhow.
Damn. He'd known it. He'd just... known it.
"Open it. What does it say?"
The two boys stood there, on the front lawn of Bayville High, as Sam carefully extracted the sheet of paper from the sealed envelope. The paper was black, and the pen was silver. The writing was sharp cursive, angled and slanted just so. It smelled like citrus and sandalwood.
Wanda.
Dear Sam,
I know I was acting strange last night, and I'm very sorry. But I couldn't tell you what I had to do, or I knew I wouldn't be able to do it. Pietro and I have gone to try and figure out what's happening to us. We're not sure when we're coming back, but hopefully it will be soon. Jean-Paul knows where we are, but I'm asking you not to ask him. We told him because we both know him, and trust him. I trust you, you know that. But I didn't trust myself to tell you. Ask him in a week, and he will tell you where we are. I'm sure if you think about it long enough, though, you will guess.
Maybe I'm a coward, telling you in a letter. But I had to tell you somehow, and Pietro knows as well as I what would've happened if I talked to you in person. I would've told you everything. He would kill me if he even knew I told you this much, in this letter. But we have to do this, the two of us. I don't know what will happen, I don't know if we will find our father, our past, our future, or more nightmares. But we have to go. This is no way to live.
I'll be back. I know you understand, Sam, but I couldn't leave without saying something. Even if it's just that I will miss you.
Love, Wanda
Sam swallowed hard, and looked back up at Jean-Paul, who was watching him, something like caution in his piercing blue eyes. "When are they coming back?"
Jean-Paul shook his head. "I don't know."
Sam looked back down now, at the paper in his hands. His head felt so hot. His stomach was in knots.
It was stupid. She had to go, she had to do this. He was glad that she was doing what she needed to do. He couldn't help her with everything after all. He'd done what he could, and now she and her brother had to do what they could...
"I'm...," he started to speak, to no one in particular. "I really... I'm going to..."
"Me too," JP said, very quietly.
The blonde boy looked up at him again, and blinked a few times, to rid himself of the burning in his eyes. "It was nice of her to leave me this."
"She's a nice girl."
"She's a tough girl," Sam felt himself smiling, in spite of himself now. Because hell, Wanda was just about the toughest girl he knew. And if anyone could do it, if anyone could take care of her right now...
It was her. Herself.
"She is," JP agreed. But he didn't smile back.
Sam wanted to ask him if he was alright. Wanted to know if he was angry or sad or irritated because Pietro was gone. Wanted to know when he'd found out.
But he and JP weren't friends. And he knew better then to try and get close to the older boy without a written invitation. They'd talked the other night, yeah, on the way home from the Brotherhood house. But that was circumstantial.
So instead, he just nodded, and turned to find his friends. Bobby and Alex wanted to go out for coffee after school. He'd originally told them he'd go... but he wasn't feeling particularly festive at the moment. Maybe he'd just go home. And try not to think about Wanda Maximoff, alone with her brother, going home.
He knew that was where they'd gone, of course. And he wouldn't say anything, if he was asked. Hell, he'd even ask Jean-Paul to confirm it, in a week, just to be sure. But where else would they go? Dreams about home, father being taken, all those links with Sinister in Eastern Europe lately... he was a country boy, but he wasn't stupid. The pattern was clear as crystal.
He could only hope it kept that up. And that Wanda and Pietro weren't walking into a trap.
Even though he didn't see how it could be otherwise. He couldn't think like that, or he'd be the one having sleepless nights. Until she came home.
* * *
Jeanne-Marie glanced around, hoping that the nervousness in her stomach wasn't showing.
The press of students all around her was growing far too insistent. Bodies all around her, people chanting into the quickly cooling air. Early evening on the NYS campus. And she was in the middle of a protest.
Jean had her by the hand, and had since things had gotten so... over the top. She clung to the hand, trying to take in all of the sensory information she was being fed at once, trying to make certain she had a hold on the situation. The Professor had asked her to stay with Jean. Had asked her to make sure they weren't in any kind of dangerous situation, that the anti-mutant sentiment didn't reach Jean.
And what had she done? Followed her right into the middle of the anti-mutant protest.
Granted, Gaz and his friends were all there to counter-protest. But things were just getting out of hand. The Students for Humanity kids had megaphones, numbers, and insanity on their side, apparently, and were shouting and yelling slogans that Jeanne-Marie could barely decipher. All she could do was cling to Jean's hand, and it was getting sweaty with the efforts, with the press of people all around them, even though the evening was growing colder.
Just so many kids...
It was confusing. Something in her was shifting between being afraid to lose Jean for her own sake, and afraid that she couldn't protect Jean. And there was a strange light behind her eyes, when she thought about either one. One moment, she wanted to rise up, fly away with Jean, get her to safety, and possibly beat the living hell out of these horrible racist protesters on the other side of the line. And the next, she wanted to curl up in a ball and call her brother to come for them. Because she didn't think she could handle it...
But she could handle it, of course. There was no reason to think she couldn't. She was an X-Man, well-trained, in control of her powers–
"No powers," Jean suddenly yelled at her, over the din of shouting voices, pulling on her hand to get her attention.
Jeanne-Marie simply stared at her red-headed friend, considering.
But... what if something bad happened?
"Even if–?"
Jean nodded, interrupting her. "No matter what. Even if something happens, no powers. It's what they'd want. We should get out of here, now."
Yes. Yes, Jeanne-Marie could not have agreed with that sentiment more. "Let's go."
Jean began to pull her through the crowd, away from Gaz and his friends. Someone was shouting over the crowd now, his voice evident through the speakers that were blaring and crackling. Something about mutant detection. Something about ending the charade.
She wondered, momentarily, what charade. She looked up, over the heads of the people in front of her, and saw a boy with piercing green eyes, sporting a green ball cap with some Greek letters on it. He was waving his arm, and he held something that looked a lot like one of those metal detectors at the airport, or in state buildings, that the security guards always had. "Jean, what's that?"
Jean looked back to her now, still pulling the other girl through the crowd, and her pink lips parted as if she would answer.
Instead, something seemed to hit Jean from behind, something Jeanne-Marie couldn't see, and the redheaded girl's slick hand slid out of her frenzied grip. Jean's body jerked as if from impact, and her green eyes went wide.
"Jean!" the darker girl shouted, throwing herself against what now seemed an impenetrable wall of bodies to get to her friend, reaching her hand over the shoulder of a random boy, desperately clawing the air.
Panic. Jean was out of her grip. They were alone, in a crowd. A partially hostile crowd. Jean's head was slowly getting further away... Somehow she was moving away.
Breathing hard, blood pounding in her ears, Aurora looked up at the platform again, at the boy in the Greek hat who was waving his microphone and his metal detector. And she felt something deep inside of her begin to vibrate.
She could hear him perfectly now. "See how they hide from us? If you're not ashamed of who you are, get up here and take the test! Hey, Ricky, c'mere man!"
Aurora darted her eyes around again, feeling her head grow hot, listening to her blood rushing. Feeling the vibration in her starting to spread, all through her body, starting in the pit of her belly. Upward, as if it would overtake her heart. Downward, into her legs, just barely...
The boy with the hat waved his metal detector over another boy's chest, as if checking him for loose change. Green lights flashed on the handle of the device, and both boys grinned hugely. "No chlorine needed for the gene pool here!"
Again, she spotted Jean's head, now near the platform. And she was fighting with someone. Her movements were jerky, and someone had a tight hand around her upper arm– Aurora could see it as Jean was taken further from the crowd, and closer to the boy with the microphone.
The vibration spread even further, and was starting to make her feel sick to her stomach. But in a good way. In a way that felt alive. Like she was becoming pure energy now. Down to her knees, up to her shoulders. Soon it would be all through her...
"Oh, look, let's see if it really works!" Microphone boy was shouting.
Aurora shoved to the front of the crowd, violently, right into the anti-mutant line. She didn't care. They couldn't touch her. She was Aurora, after all.
They were making Jean step onto the platform, arms bound behind her. She was biting her lip, looking half dazed, and half like she was trying very hard to concentrate. Aurora felt, instinctively, that she was undoing whatever they'd used to bind her with her TK.
"Jean Grey! We have a celebrity on stage, ladies and gentlemen!" The boy was yelling now, waving his metal detector. "Come on over here, show the people how well this thing works, mutie girl."
Jean stared hard at the boy, once she managed to focus. Something must've hit her in the head, and she was still dizzy. But she pulled her shoulders back, met his eyes. Defiantly. Refusing to use her powers.
"Jean!" She heard, just to her left, and saw Gaz Russell at her side, pushing frantically to the front.
A loud beeping sound was rolling through the loudspeakers now, and Aurora could feel the vibration in her in her fingers, in her toes, behind her eyes now. It was all through her, rushing like a waterfall, like a force of nature. Her face was flushed, her body was shaking, and she could barely hold it in, everything that was inside of her... she looked back to the stage, and saw a bright red light flashing on the metal detector as the green-hat boy waved it over Jean.
And realized that it wasn't a metal detector at all. It was a mutant detector.
Jean was standing, gazing down at the crowd defiantly. The reactions were so jumbled– half the people yelling for them to leave her alone, half the crowd yelling that she was genetic scum, an abomination.
Abomination. The white was growing behind Aurora's eyes now, at the sound of that word. She saw it flashing before her, on signs, on lips. Heard the nuns screaming at her, felt that belt on her back, just like the first time she'd found that she could fly...
Jean suddenly went reeling before her on the platform, and Aurora saw that green-hat boy had shoved her. Aurora knew that the other girl was using her TK to steady herself, quietly, so that no one could see her power activated...
But that small action, the fact that someone had laid hands on Jean Grey, her friend, her fellow mutant...
Pissed Aurora off.
She shot straight up, suddenly, and flashed to Jean's side, steadying her, standing just beside her on the platform.
"Aurora," Jean hissed, green eyes wide and terrified as the darker girl straightened her. "No powers. They'll eat you alive! Let it go, I can handle it!"
But Aurora didn't care anymore. She spun on the hat boy, saw his eyes flash with fear and disgust. And was on him in a split second, holding his arm behind him, and hissing in his ear.
She didn't hear the crowd anymore. She didn't even see the people closing in around her, so much as feel them with some sixth sense. And she really didn't care. This boy had offended her. And he was going down.
"You touch my friend, you die," she pulled his arm up tighter, behind him, stretching it painfully.
He yelped like a little girl, and swung his other arm, the one holding the Mutant Detection System, at her head.
It flashed bright red.
Jean screamed.
Aurora felt the other girl's protective psychic field hit her.
But not before she felt something blunt and heavy clock her in the back of the head.
The last thing she thought of, before she blacked out in a burst of multi-colored pain, was that she had been stupid to focus on one of them. She really should've taken them all down. And that would've ended their little protest.
* * *
Warren was supremely irritated. "What do you think it means, Professor?"
Xavier shook his bald head, and gave a slight sigh. "I can't say, for certain. But it... does not bode well for our plans."
ExGen wasn't returning the calls. Previously, they'd been quick to answer his every request– sending him that portfolio overnight, discussing issues, giving out phone numbers. But now, suddenly, they seemed to be backing off...
And just when he needed to be close to them the most.
This had to work, this undercover operation. It simply had to. He had a personal responsibility to the world, and he knew it. Money was power, in that arena, and power was dangerous. And if his family used that power poorly, it reflected badly on all of them, and could ruin so many lives, so easily...
But he didn't really want to do it, was the thing. What he wanted was to go and find Jeanne-Marie, who he knew was spending the day with Jean in the city, sweep her off her feet, take her back to his apartment and–
"Perhaps they simply need time to review the request. If it was only put in yesterday, it's entirely possible that they must send it through the higher levels of administration to clear you."
The logic of Xavier's explanation cut through his moment of daydreaming, and he swallowed hard, suddenly considering the pitfalls of daydreaming about making out with JM in the presence of her teacher– who happened to be the most powerful telepath on the planet. "Yes, of course, that makes sense. But it makes me nervous... they usually at least call me back, and my phone has been quiet all day..."
"Professor!!" Footsteps were suddenly pounding down the hallway toward them, and someone banged on the door to his office. Loud.
"Come in Rogue," but Xavier was already wheeling himself out from behind his desk, eyes suddenly wide with alarm.
He already knew what was wrong obviously.
Rogue burst through the door, breathing hard and shaking her head. "My gawd, something bad happened."
Xavier looked at her for a moment, and then nodded. "I sent for Jean-Paul. You go with him, take Angel. Bring them home."
Rogue nodded, reached out one gloved hand to the very confused Warren, clasped him around the wrist, and pulled him through the door behind her. "Let's go tiger. JM needs you. Now."
~~~
"Tell me again, then," Jean-Paul was breathing hard, standing over his sister's hospital bed, eyes narrowed at Jean Grey, who was occupying the next bed over.
Warren looked from Jean, who looked exhausted, who had been crying since he, Jean-Paul, and Rogue had arrived at NYS to pick them up. And hadn't stopped. She wasn't sobbing, but tears were just falling, one after the other.
He'd tried to help, somehow. Put his arm around her.
She'd shrugged him off, and hidden her face. Crying silently.
Warren had his own problems, however. As he looked down at the ivory white face of Jeanne-Marie Beaubier, the girl he was so quickly falling in love with, after only a week of knowing her... his heart stopped beating. She was so pale, so cold-looking. She looked like a corpse. The thought made him shiver.
He knew she was alright. She'd gotten a bad knock on the head, and a few bruises to the back. She'd awakened, throwing up, in the jet on the short trip back. And now she was resting, so Dr. McCoy told them, comfortably. And she would be fine...
But Jean-Paul grilling Jean probably wasn't helping her so much. Warren wanted to interrupt the arrogant Canuck, tell him to shut the hell up, tell him to have a little respect for his injured sister.
But he knew better. Jean-Paul would destroy him if he presumed to know how he felt about Jeanne-Marie. It was obvious. Her twin was standing over her bed like a watchdog, refusing to move from his spot, glaring at anyone who got too near to her. Warren hadn't actually touched her since they'd picked the girls up, in fact.
Even though he was dying to. To feel that she was actually warm. Because she just looked so cold...
"Jean-Paul...," Jean seemed, for a moment, as if she would put up a fight through her tears.
Warren shot JP a dirty look, but the violence in the younger boy's eyes stopped him cold, once again. Jean-Paul was staring down at his sister, looking like he was about to murder someone.
And... Jesus. He hadn't noticed it before but...
Jean-Paul looked like he was going to...
No way. Jean-Paul Beaubier didn't cry.
Jean gave in before Warren could decide how he felt about the expression on Jean-Paul's face, and he heard her voice catch, just a bit. Again, not weeping. Just... tired. She sounded so drained. "The protest got out of hand. The two lines got bunched together, and Andy had a platform, a little stage. He was waving around an MDS, testing people. He got someone to grab me, to bring me up on stage. They tied me up, and I undid it with my TK, despite the bump on my head. I lost Aurora in the crowd. After that. Andy tested me, and it showed that I'm a mutant, and he shoved me across the stage when I tried to say something into the mic. I had a plan... I wanted to show them all that mutants aren't dangerous. I wanted to talk to them, while I had their attention. I thought that if they saw me standing there, unashamed, unbound, of my own free will, they might respect me. Half the crowd was on our side, anyhow..."
Jean-Paul looked up, at her now. But kept silent. And his face stayed stony. No compassion for Jean there. But no hate, or anger, either. Just stone.
"But when she saw him push me, she... she went... Aurora. Totally Aurora. Like we haven't seen in a long time. I felt her mind, Jean-Paul, there was nothing there but that flash of light that she becomes. She was so angry, and so focused. She flew to the stage, pulled me up. I tried to calm her down, but she went after Andy... I think she broke his arm. And then they all came up on her and hit her before I could hold them back. I finally got her out, with Gaz's help, and I got her to safety before campus security got there but... oh god..."
With that, Warren felt obligated to try again. No matter what strange issues stood between the two of them, he couldn't watch her cry. And he couldn't just... stand there and not do anything, anymore. He went to Jean and put an arm around her shoulders, and this time, she accepted. She still sat tall, but she didn't pull away from him. She just sat, looking at Jeanne-Marie now, staring. "She's going to be fine," He said, soothingly. To everyone in the room.
"When I find out who did this–,"
But Jean-Paul's snarl was cut off by the medlab door opening, and Scott suddenly appearing inside the doorway. "We already know," he announced, instantly. "And they're being expelled. Andy Rasz is no longer a student at NYS, as of an hour ago, due to his hate crimes."
Warren suddenly wondered what those eyes were seeing, under the ruby shades. And he almost pulled away from Jean, as he remembered their conversation over making dinner the other night...
But Jean was the one who pulled away first. She stood and went to her boyfriend, looked at him for a minute, and then hugged him.
Scott stared for a moment, at Jean-Paul. Who simply raised his eyebrows and looked back to his sister.
Warren didn't read too much into that. He thought it might be better for his sanity if he didn't.
But within seconds, Scott's arms were around the redheaded girl, and he leaned his head against hers, carefully. "It's fine, Jean. Apparently, forcing mutants to take part in that kind of activity counts for just as much as it does when it's any minority being put in that situation. He's out of school."
"What about Jeanne-Marie?" Jean-Paul suddenly spoke up again, voice practically dripping ice. "Is he pressing charges?"
"We don't know yet. But he'd be an idiot to, considering the provocation for her attack was his own attack on Jean, and JM's disorder...," but Scott trailed off there, as Jean-Paul's lip curled up in a snarl.
The Canadian mutant looked back to Jeanne-Marie, and returned to his former stony expression. Except for the misty sort of look in his eyes. That was pure emotion.
Warren followed his gaze, to the sleeping girl on the med cot.
And felt his own eyes burning just a little bit as well. God she looked so fragile, laying there. But she was a force to be reckoned with, that much was certain. If she hadn't been so focused on just one boy, the one who had shoved Jean, Andy, that whole protest might've ended up bruised and battered... No, she wasn't a fragile thing at all, despite appearances. He'd seen her in the Danger Room. This girl was...
Everything.
Warren could hear Scott and Jean talking quietly, but he didn't care to pick out any of the words. Seeing them hold on to each other would only make it worse. But after a moment, they seemed to move, as if to leave the lab, and Scott asked, quietly, "Jean-Paul... are you going to be ok?"
Warren thought it was a strange question, considering that it was Jeanne-Marie in the bed with the huge lump on her head, not Jean-Paul. But then... he did look horribly upset.
"This ranks right up there with the day Sinister took her," Jean-Paul said quietly. "Do you remember that? We'd just fought..."
"Yeah," Scott answered, just as quiet, now moving to stand next to the dark-haired boy, to put a hand on his shoulder. "My jaw remembers it."
A slight smile twitched at Jean-Paul's lips, but his face ultimately went back to being stony.
"No one took her...," Warren said, vaguely. He meant it to sound reassuring. She was still here, after all, just had a bump. She'd be alright, in a few days. Hank had said so...
"No," Jean-Paul muttered. "She's here. At least Jeanne-Marie is here."
Scott squeezed his friend's shoulder again, and gave Warren a weak half smile. "Don't let him get too morose. I'll be back later, JP."
Jean-Paul didn't respond, if he heard. He just kept staring at his sister, arms crossed tight over his chest, hugging himself, really.
Scott turned to go, and Jean went with him, still crying, silently.
The light in the medlab was horrific. Fluorescent and sickly and stark. White tiled floors and blue sheets. Made everyone's face look gray. Made Jeanne-Marie look so cold. Even Jean-Paul looked a bit like a walking corpse, really.
Warren sat down on the empty bed, where Jean had been. And settled himself in for a long, brooding vigil.
And Jean-Paul didn't look up at him once. Like he didn't even know the other boy was in the room with him. Like there was nothing in the world but him and his sister.
* * *
Scott Summers felt like the World's Biggest Jerk.
Not only had his girlfriend been assaulted and harassed at a rally today, which was reason enough to be pissed... but he'd been planning all day to break up with her tonight. And that made him feel like a complete prick.
And on top of that, was the fact that everything else was wrong with the world as well. Jeanne-Marie had gone off the deep end again and used her powers in public, against a civilian, and was now lying in the medlab with a huge fucking bump on her head and some serious shock. Scott had also noticed someone commenting on JP's mood today and that it must have to do with Pietro skipping school, so he'd made the mistake of asking Jean-Paul what was up with Pietro... and been told in no uncertain terms that Jean-Paul was not interested in discussing it. "And if you bring it up again, you'll be breathing through a straw for the next five years."
Turned out, no one had seen either Maximoff today. And Scott knew that Jean-Paul knew what was up, and it made him nervous, considering all the issues with Magneto, lately. And it was obvious that whatever had happened to the Maximoff's, Jean-Paul wasn't very happy about Pietro's disappearance. Even if he knew where his boyfriend (Scott didn't give a shit if JP referred to Pietro strictly as his friend, he knew a boyfriend when he saw one) had gone to, he still wasn't too excited about him being missing in action, that much was clear.
And now JP had this to deal with. So Scott was worried about him, obviously. Jeanne-Marie wasn't the only unstable Beaubier in the house– Jean-Paul pushed to his breaking point was a scary thing. As Scott had just joked with his friend, his jaw remembered all too well what it felt like. But this time, JP didn't look angry.
He was sad.
Which made Scott very uncomfortable. Angry JP he could deal with. But sad, hurt JP... that was something he wasn't quite sure how to handle.
But all of that was skirting his own personal issue, of course. The issue of Jean Grey, who had just been through hell and high water.
Who he had been planning to dump.
Who, if she had not just been through this horrible experience, he would probably be on the phone with, breaking up, right now.
Scott dragged a hand through his hair and sighed, and looked up at Jean quickly. She'd stopped crying, at least, which was good. Rogue had said she'd been crying when they'd found her and JM at the school. She was just holding Jeanne-Marie, apparently, sitting there, straight and tall, and crying. Silently.
Oh god. Murphy's law was a bitch.
"Feeling better, Jean?" He asked, knowing it was lame. But he felt the need to say something to her. She was depending on him, if just a little. That she had come out from under Warren's arm to put her own arms around him the moment he entered the room had surprised him, really. She'd been so cold, for the past month or so...
"No," She admitted, with a sad smile. "Not better at all. I want to talk to Jeanne-Marie. I'm afraid. You didn't see her, Scott... she was..."
"Aurora," He finished for her. "And not the around-the-house, fighting with Roberto Aurora. I know, Jean. But that's Jeanne-Marie, she's just... like that. She'll be fine."
"I don't know. Something in her mind snapped, Scott. And it's my fault."
Now this was something new... "How can it be your fault?"
"She didn't want to go to the protest. I wanted to. This boy from class, he defended mutants in front of everyone. And he asked us... to come over. He said that since people know I'm a mutant, it would inspire them to be brave and stand up as well. To think of mutants as human as well," she was shaking her head now, and her long hair was falling out of her ponytail, into her eyes.
Absently, he reached up and tucked it behind her ear. And she moved a little closer to him on the couch.
He'd been about to break up with her. And oh god... he realized it with a terrible electric jolt to all his systems. Oh god, he still wanted to break up with her.
But she was carrying on with her explanation, oblivious.
Scott wasn't sure if that was lucky or not. But he didn't need to see in color to know that her eyes were tired, and likely red-rimmed. And he was her friend, or he was nothing at all. And he would be here for her however she needed him.
"I made her go, because I wanted to... be a part of it. Of something like that. And she tried to protect me, but she couldn't. In her head, he was an enemy. She treated him like an enemy. And I've been so awful to her lately, I've been ignoring her phone calls and..."
Jean looked up, as her voice trailed off. And their eyes met.
It was almost painful, really, the unspoken end of that sentence. It wasn't the end she'd wanted to give it probably. But as far as Scott was concerned, she might as well have said, "I've been ignoring her phone calls, and ignoring you." Because he knew it was true. She had been avoiding him. Leaving right after Danger Room sessions and meetings, ignoring his voice mails, his IMs. After a moment of looking at him, she winced, as if she could feel it.
How much it had hurt him.
Had being the operative word. It was odd, he thought, but he now understood why it was he was so ready to break up with her. She'd been so cold, she'd hurt him so constantly... he'd just gotten numb. And he was so numb now that he couldn't feel the bad... or the good. There was no filter, on that kind of thing. You are on or off. And Scott had turned himself off to her, for the sake of his heart.
And now there was nothing.
She'd probably done the same exact thing. They'd done it to each other.
"I'm sorry," She breathed, suddenly closing her eyes.
"Don't be," He returned, instantly. "It's ok now."
"Is it really?"
"One way or another Jean, we're going to be ok."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
AN: First off, slight apologies are in order. I've been slow. Once a week, pretty regularly, but still, that's slow for me. It's because We've also somehow been turning out Fallen Angels like there's no tomorrow (the Iceman arc was finished this week! Have a look, Sue and I are well pleased with ourselves, for once.) It's quite good for me to go back and forth between Evo and 616-- that way I don't get tired of either, and I don't forget that JP/JM are not my Evo version of themselves. Keeps me on my toes when writing the Canadian wonders. This story will never be abandoned, however, I am just obsessing over multiple storylines. Never fear, true believers.
Now, for the shout-outs!
Relwarc: Again with the brilliant feedback! JP and Warren have this horrible dynamic in Uncanny, and I wanted to reflect that. Over the exact same issue, in fact. Glad it was effective. Pietro, I figure, gets to be a bit more ballsy because his options are so limited at the moment. He has only one choice offered to him, go and see what the hell is happening in Transia. And if he doesn't take it, spend the rest of his nights sleepless till the deprivation ends him, really. Amazing what the most cowardly individual can do under duress, don't you think? As for Jean... I have trouble with Jean. Any time I write her PoV it takes me ages. I'm really glad that it's been sucessful thus far, because I admit, I do worry about her the most. As to her motivation, it's one I'm all too familiar with. You get wrapped up in yourself, and you forget what you left behind, as far as I can see. The typical college problem, when you first go. She has other motivation, of course... but if you ask me, the show never really proved that to us. I'm casting around looking for it. I do hope I snag it. And Gambit/Rogue... I hate the pair, to be honest. That'll become clear eventually. I've hated them since she ditched him in Antarctica. In Evo, of course, she didn't... but Evo!Gambit, as you say, is a different entity entirely. Stalker. ;)
cyberpilate: I'm so glad you were happy with Gambit! He is my all time favorite X-Man, to be honest. Something about the rogueish nature in him appeals to me like you wouldn't believe. What can I say-- I'm a fangirl. But that doesn't mean I'm going to invent him as I'd like to see him, in Evo. I am terrified of writing Remy, thanks to the metric arseload of Gambit fanfic that I cannot stand, due to such foolish and flat characterization. Same old same old. Your words mean a lot to me, to think that I didn't fall into that trap as well. Not yet, anyhow... let's just hope I can keep it up. And as for Pietro... well, he is a coward. This is the boy who hid in the closet (and yes, pun intended) when his sister came searching for him, after all. A snotty, spiteful coward. Gods, but he's lovely.
Taineyah: Too kind of you. I really appreciate that you would say such things about my writing. You're a dear! Hope you continue to enjoy.
Caliente: Well, you knew I couldn't have her leave Sam without saying something didn't yer? Really pleased that you picked up on the dynamics I wanted for the X-Men and Warren-- His distaste for Wolverine, his mistrust of Gambit (though it hasn't become the flat out hatred 616 Archangel has... had... is he over that yet? I mean, he got his wings back, dammit...) And yes, Jean is Miss Perfect (I agree with Rogue's assesment in Evo entirely), and no, she can't handle being in second. And she knows it's wrong, and stupid, of course. But... yeah. I'm not a huge Jean fan. *ahem*
UniversalAnimeGirl: I definitely would like to see more of Pietro and Wanda being brother and sister, yes. It's an important relationship, in anyone's life, who has a sibling. And if you're not close to your sibs, you don't know what you're missing, know what I mean? As for Rogue and Scott, I honestly tried to think of who he would come to in the house for help. And Rogue is the only girl I can really remember him having an actual conversation with, in the show, other than Jean. And she's kind of a "cool" chick, so she wouldn't take things the wrong way. As for tonsil hockey in the movie theater... yes it happens! All the time! Well, ok maybe I was just a bad kid but... well I recommend the activity. Let's just leave it at that. It's such a fantastic part of growing up heh. I'm glad you're alright with Wanda-- in the show she only really started to have much personality after her mind got screwed with. So not a lot to go on there. But I'm working hard!
Risty: Thank you so much! Like I just said, Wanda is super important to me, and takes an awful lot of care to plan out and think like, so as to avoid canon-smashing. Not that I don't do that on occasion but... yeah. I do try!
crazyspaceystracey: I'm with you on Sam/Wanda. It's random, but I'm hooked. Sue reminded me about the haircut I think. Or it mighta been TKD. Someone was like "um how is he gonna explain that?" And of course, it would be JP. Bless him. Hope you're still enjoying!
Regret1017: Welcome back! As for the Morlocks... oh man... more characters?! If I try and do one more PoV I think I might explode ;) But yes, another JM/Warren believer! It is right! /cheer
Angharad: Thank you very much! Sorry about the author alerts thing, it's been flipping the hell out. Or it was. I surmise that it's fine now. Will JP meet Magneto? Well, mate, I could tell yer, but then I'd have to kill yer. And we can't have that! Read on!
That's all. Thanks for reading! 3 -Beaubier-